


one pink drink

by carnivorousBelvedere



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blackouts, Chronic Illness, Corruption, Drinking, F/F, F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Minor John Egbert/Roxy Lalonde, Partying, Recovery, alcohol is not a carb, inexperienced callie, roxy is pan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-14 18:32:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18481960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carnivorousBelvedere/pseuds/carnivorousBelvedere
Summary: "Roxy, what's in a Long Island Iced Tea?" Callie yells over the blaring music and flashing lights."Oh, honey," Roxy sighs. "Definitelynot iced tea."-Roxy owns a specialty cocktail bar in the nightlife quarter of the city, so she kind of knows the way things go around there.Callie's never taken a shot before.It was always going to be an unlikely friendship.





	one pink drink

**Author's Note:**

> recipe for a Long Island Ice Tea:
> 
> 1 ounce vodka  
> 1 ounce gin  
> 1 ounce white rum  
> 1 ounce white tequila  
> 1/2 ounce Triple Sec  
> 2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice  
> 1/2 cup cola, or to taste  
> 2 lemon wedges

The bar is finally quiet. The doors are locked, the lights are dimmed, tables cleared and clean. All of the staff is gone for the night, save for the one person.

Roxy Lalonde, the bar’s owner, sits on her laptop running numbers from the evening. Leaning on one elbow tiredly, her baggy white sweater falls off one shoulder and she’s too lazy to fix it in the absence of company. She squirms in her extra stretch jeans that still aren’t stretchy enough and taps her boots on the footrest of the barstool. Soon she can go home, change into something more comfortable and then get some level of intoxicated until she falls asleep. 

Casual alcoholism is basically a hobby in their city.

Click, click. Excel addition function, make a note to to buy more Midori and the Belvedere vodka people seem to like better than Grey Goose nowadays. People like the papaya punch better than the guava gimlet, buy more papaya juice. 

The bar, known as Sugar House, specializes in food, deserts, but most of all the extensive array of cocktails that are generally more sugar than alcohol, unless Roxy is the one making them.

Tonight is a normal Saturday night. They closed at two, and it was a pretty good evening. The clubs around them are either closing or still going until four. Roxy ignores the hubbub outside, though she can sense people glancing at her through the wide windows of her establishment as she works away after hours. 

A man catcalls someone across the street, breaking through her reverie. 

“Leave me alone!” Says a female voice right outside the door.

Roxy frowns but decides it’s not her business.

“Hey, can I borrow your phone— oh okay, sorry to bother you,” the same voice says, quieter and pleading, a few seconds later. 

The stranger outside repeats the question to another person and is turned down again. 

Roxy purses her lips and stops clicking around on her laptop, swiveling the bar seat to look and see who is out there with the plight of a lost or dead phone. 

It’s a young lady. Fresh out of college, maybe. Doesn’t seem drunk. Long brown hair. Her butt sure looks cute in that little strappy black number, but she’s wrapped her arms around her body and is full on shivering. It’s too cold a night to not have a coat with a dress and heels like that. 

Sugar House is closed, and Roxy should finish closing and get out of there, but… she’s not a total dick. Another man walks by and whistles at the girl.

Roxy gives in. 

With a sigh she stands up from the chair and walks over to the door where the girl is standing under the awning. She unlocks it and cold air blows in.

“Hey there, doll. Need a hand?” 

The girl turns and faces her, mouth turning to make a small ‘o’ as she takes in Roxy’s presence. Roxy wonders what she’s thinking. Are her stiletto knee high boots intimidating? Roxy sure hopes so, it’s the damn reason she bought them. 

The girl keeps gaping at her. Roxy frowns. “You just gonna keep standing there or can I help you?”

She comes to life, shaking her head. “Oh, right, yeah. I uh. My phone died. Can I use yours to try calling my friend?”

“Uhh. Hoooowww about you just come in, I have chargers behind the bar,” Roxy says and opens the door wider to let the girl step through. 

“Are you sure?” She says.

Another man walks by. “Hey sweetie,” he says.

“Fuck off,” Roxy spits in his direction. Jeez, this chick is like an asshole magnet.

The girl quickly steps inside after that. Roxy locks the door behind the stranger and then turns back to her, holding out a hand for the girl to give her the dead phone. She’s busy ogling the empty bar space but finally turns and looks at Roxy. 

“What are you—“ she starts to say.

“I kinda need your phone if I’m gonna charge it,” Roxy says. 

“Oh. Right.” She quickly fishes into her purse and pulls it out, hesitantly handing the dead device to Roxy. 

“Go ahead, take a seat on one of those stools.” Roxy nods her chin in the direction of the ones where she had been sitting on her computer just a moment ago.

“Oh, okay. Thank you,” the girl says timidly and goes to sit at the bar while Roxy circles around to the other side and finds the couple of chargers the employees sometimes use on long shifts, plugging it into the correct one. “So tell me, what’s a nice girl like you doing out here alone.”

The girl sighs. “I got separated from my friend. I was waiting here across from the bar hoping to run into them coming out of the club, but I guess I missed them.”

“How could they miss you? Aren’t they looking for you?”

“Well. I think that’s because… they kinda went home with someone.” She shifts her gaze to look down at the floor. 

“Damn. Doesn’t sound like a great friend.”

“I mean I wasn’t gonna tell them not to.”

“Nah dude. You just gotta make a pact with them. ‘My friend fucks or I don’t’, problem solved.”

The girl giggles. 

“So your phone died and you got split up from your friend. You’re not wearing a coat and it’s like 40 degrees out. You get out much?”

“Oh. Yeah, you got me. I really don’t.”

Roxy half smiles at her and the girl shrugs, meeting her eyes full on for the first time.

She’s cute. Round cheeks, an angular jawline. Deep set eyes, but Roxy can’t tell the color in the dim lighting. 

Roxy realizes she looks so _sad_. 

Roxy takes pity on her immediately. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“No no I couldn’t oh goodness, you’ve done enough for me already,” the girl says, waving a hand. “Plus I really shouldn’t. It’s not… good for me.” 

“I insist. It looks like you’ve had a rough night.”

“I really— I don’t—“ the girl scrambles for words.

“How about this. I’m gonna make _myself_ a drink, and if I just so happen to make enough for two I’ll give you the second. On the house.”

The girl gapes at her once more. “I… okay,” she says, in a whisper. 

Roxy grins and nods once, getting to work grabbing the bottles. 

“You got a favorite liquor?”

“Er, not really. Surprise me?”

“Heh. Can do. Uh, name’s Roxanne, by the way, but everyone calls me Roxy. I own this fine establishment here,” she pauses in the middle of collecting the cocktail materials to lean over the bar and extend a hand.

The girl meets her halfway, looking at her with wide eyes. “Calliope Green. Everyone calls me Callie, though.”

The handshake is so dainty Roxy worries that if she gripped any harder she might break her hand.

“Pleasure to meet you, Callie. Beautiful name, why shorten it?”

“Well, I guess because nobody can pronounce ‘Calliope’. Why don’t you like Roxanne?”

“Because I don’t like being the chorus of a 70s song about a prostitute, what’s your excuse?” Roxy is treated again to her bell-like giggle, and it makes her grin even wider. “It is, however, also a great drinking game. Alright, you just sit back and let me make the magic happen.”

Roxy gets down to pouring just enough vodka, Midori, and dragonfruit juice into a shaker with ice and dipping two martini glass rims into lime juice for them to be coated in candy. 

Finally Roxy places the cocktail in front of her, green-pink liquid in a martini glass and a colorful edge.

“This one is my personal favorite. The honeydew dragon with our signature ‘Stardust’ rim. Cheers.” She holds out her own glass for Callie to clink against. 

Callie’s hand hesitates in the air for a second before lifting the glass and pushing it forward to hit against Roxy’s. She then follows Roxy in taking the glass to her lips and taking a sip, or more so a taste of the edge. Roxy smiles as her licks her lips.

“Oh my god, are these rainbow pop rocks?”

“You bet your buns they are.”

“Oh my stars that’s good,” Callie says, taking another excited sip.

‘ _Oh my stars_?’ Roxy thinks. ‘That’s cute.’

“Can I ask you a question?” Callie says suddenly, after a few moments of relaxed sipping while Roxy watches her. 

“Shoot.”

“You seem pretty young to own a bar.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s a bit of a long story. I kind of inherited this place? Yeah.”

“That’s… cool,” Callie says hesitantly. Roxy knows there is a question hanging off of it, but she chooses to ignore it. 

“I suppose. Can I ask you a question?”

“I mean that only seems fair.”

“You seem young like, period.”

“Do I not look 21?” Callie points at her own face. 

Roxy scrutinizes her. “Not really?” 

“You already let me in, seems a little late to check my ID.”

“Ha ha, funny.”

“—But for the record, I’m 22.”

“Ah, the Taylor Swift number.”

“Wow, as if I’ve never heard that one before.”

Roxy laughs. It’s. This is nice. Roxy is good with people, she works at bar. But instant camaraderie, vibing with someone like this, that’s rare. Even for her. 

“How old are you, then?” Callie asks. 

“You should never ask a woman her age!” Roxy says with mock offense. “Nah, just kidding. I’m 27. Anyways, enjoy 22. They say everyone hates you when you’re 23.”

“Was it true for you?”

“I think everyone just hates me, period.”

Callie throws back her head and laughs. Roxy grins to and takes another sip, watching her. As she stops laughing and takes another drink, Callie is grinning.

Her teeth are the sharpest Roxy has ever seen. Her canines look like tiny daggers. Her stomach jolts and she swallows thickly as her eyes narrow on them. 

Callie keeps drinking, looking off as she tastes the crafted beverage, but pauses and sets the glass back down. She suddenly looks downtrodden. 

Roxy becomes concerned. “Something wrong?”

“No I uh… I just…”, Callie bites her lip, fumbling for words. “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Roxy scrunches her eyebrows at her. “What do you mean?”

“You let me in and you’re obviously closed, you make me a free drink, I mean like… I don’t deserve it.”

“‘Course you do. I’m sure if you were me you’d do the same for your fellow woman, right?”

“... Right.” Callie take another sip, but there’s still an air of hesitancy there. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I heard you get catcalled a bunch and let me tell you the guys that go out around here are just, like, predatory trash.”

Dirk practically takes the cue and comes out of the back rooms, carrying a box. Roxy lowers her eyebrows suspiciously at him. 

“Man, are we talking about how all men are terrible? Because all men are terrible, I would know.” He walks across the floor to where the DJs occasionally set up to play and sets the box down. 

“You only say that when you’ve been sleeping with Jake,” Roxy comments. 

Dirk straightens up and looks back at her. “Wow okay, way to put me on blast in front of your new friend there. Also come on Jake is a good fuck, alright?” 

Roxy snorts and the sees Callie turn slightly red, but she does laugh. 

“Don’t mind him, he’s the thirstiest person I know,” Roxy says to Callie across the bar before looking back at Dirk, who is shaking his head. 

In the periphery of her vision she can see Callie’s phone booting up again, the symbol appearing on the screen. She finds herself frowning. 

It’s after hours. She should want to go to sleep. But if she’s being honest, she kind of doesn’t want this interaction to end, Dirk’s interruption withstanding. 

She goes to pluck the phone off the charger and slides it over the bar to Callie. “Here you go, doll,” she says. “Should have enough juice to get you home.” 

Callie looks at her phone screen and back up at Roxy. “Thank you,” she says, so painfully genuine it twists Roxy’s heart. 

“It’s no big deal,” Roxy says again. 

Callie gets to calling an uber while Roxy watches her, occasionally glancing back at Dirk in the back messing around with cables. 

“Hey, you have nice hair,” Roxy says suddenly. 

Callie frowns, a surprising response. “Thanks,” she says, even more softly, almost a mutter. 

Roxy tilts her head to the side. “What’s up? Do you not like it?” 

Callie sighs, looking up at her. “No, it’s not that. It’s just. Uh. It’s just not real.” She sighs at Roxy’s continued confused expression. “I just recently went into remission. From cancer.” Her voice is barely a whisper, Roxy doesn’t even think Dirk can hear it. 

“Huh,” Roxy says. “Well. I think you’d be beautiful no matter what hair you have.” 

Callie looks up at her again with wide eyes. 

“--Also what the fuck your friends suck you just finished beating cancer and they leave you to go bang some rando?” 

Callie shrugs sadly but is smiling. “I always just end up putting space between people somehow, I guess.” 

Her phone gets a notification that her driver is on the street. Roxy comes around from the other side of the bar to walk her to the door and let her out. 

“Well, uh. You take care now. Get better friends, dude.” 

Callie laughs softly. “Yeah, I will. And. Thank you. I seriously can’t pay you for the drink?”

“Don’t even try,” Roxy says. 

The girl starts to protest and then stops. “I-- Okay then.” She steps out the door. “See you, Roxy. I really can’t thank you enough for this.” 

“Bye. Don’t mention it,” Roxy says, closing the door behind her but watching until the Callie gets in the car and it peels away from the curb. 

“Wow, gay,” Dirk comments from across the room as the car leaves. 

Roxy turns to look at him so fast her curls almost whip against her face. “Excuse me?” 

“Listen man, all I’m saying that is if that were a dude, that would have been straight up flirting.” 

Roxy groans. “Diiiiirk, we’ve talked about this. Girls are different.” They all flirt-but-not-really-flirt, it’s just being _friendly_. “Unlike most guys I know not to read into something.” 

Dirk is shaking his head at her and smiling. “No, Roxy, _you_ were flirting.” 

“I was-- I was not!” 

“Yeah, okay sure.” 

“She’s like, textbook straight girl! _And_ five years younger than me!” 

“Yeah and kicking cancer’s ass kind of puts a few years on someone, don’t you think?” 

Roxy pauses. “... So you did hear that.” 

“Eh. Sound travels weird in this room.” 

Roxy peers at him, and then sighs, turning to go to the bar and start cleaning the glasses she’d used. “Anyways, it doesn’t matter. I’ll probably never see her again.” 

“Hey, you never know. Our little slice of partytown is pretty small.” 

Roxy isn’t so convinced.


End file.
